


The morning light

by smudgay



Series: Space They Cannot Touch [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:59:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smudgay/pseuds/smudgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't do this for yourself, you do this for her. You're dying, and this is the only way. So you run before the morning light and before Leliana can process anything.</p>
<p>(The warden leaves to find a cure, Leliana doesn't know it though.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The morning light

**Author's Note:**

> A quick thing I wrote for my favourite paring. Part of a series involving these two.

In the dead of the night, with the faint light of the moon spilling through the curtain that neither of you bother to close properly, and the soft hum of some insect stuck in your house, you can hear Leliana. She prays in a foreign tongue, _Orlesian_  you guess, but either way you don’t need to know the language to figure out what the words mean. She prays for you, and at some point during the night, when her voice grows hoarse and she finally falls asleep, you whisper your thanks.

You don’t sleep anymore, you _can’t_ , and parts of the night have become your entertainment. You love the way she curls against you, her face buried into your back even though she’s much taller than you. The way she holds you close to her, like you might run away or roll off the bed—you suppress the urge to remind her that neither have happened before nor will they ever happen. You know she won’t listen anyway. The things she does when she thinks your deep asleep hurt you though. The hushed prayers, the gentle kisses, the apologies.  And it pains you that you can’t turn around, tell her it’s okay. You know you can’t move, you’d let her know that you’re awake which would spawn more questions. 

_Why are you awake?_

_Why can’t you sleep?_

You don’t need to answer the questions, you know the moment Leliana wonders them—she’ll know the answer. It’s the same reason as to why you’ve been covering your skin a bit more every day, why you hide the handkerchiefs you’ve been coughing into. 

_You’re dying._

The calling is coming for you, the songs have gotten louder and you know that Leliana knows. This is your second time being tainted, once with your clan, again as a warden. You know the pain, and you know your frail body would succumb earlier than the others. You’re lucky you’ve gotten as far as you have, really.   

But she won’t accept it, pushing it away, holding you tighter, like somehow her words will heal you. And it tears her apart that she has to leave you so often, the divine’s tasks dividing your time with her. 

She’s traveling to Kirkwall in the morning, so she pushes you especially close to her tonight, trying to take in all of your scent before she goes. In her own way, she is trying to imprint all of you on her. You understand it, you don’t mind, you know she’s scared. She doesn’t even bother to whisper her prayers tonight.

You would do the same if she was dying, but you hate having to pretend like you are not sick. You feel ready; you have never been happier, or more content with your life than you have been with her and you feel ready. She makes you feel like you can be. 

But she isn’t ready, and you have to admit, you really do want much more time. Maybe a family first, you’ve always wanted a family. 

So, with a heavy heart but a study resolve, you push yourself away from Leliana, away from your bed before the sun can rise. She shifts, moans, you tell her you need to pee and tell her you’ll be right back. She groans, she’s never been an easy one to wake, never a morning person. 

You grab what you need, only the basics. Your dog shifts, he’s not a morning person—well, dog—either. You grab your best cloak, the one that covers your face perfectly; your best bow, and your favourite scarf. You leave your warden armor, there’s no need for it where you’re going. 

When you’re ready, you hear Leliana move. The sun is peaking through the curtain that neither of you bother to close. There is no time for a letter, you realize. In a foreign tongue, you tell her you love her and that you’re sorry, but she doesn’t need to know Elvhen to understand. 

“Lyna…?” She groans, she isn’t facing the right way, and her eyes are still clouded with sleep.

You don’t do this for yourself, to quell the pain you feel rippling through you every day. You do this for _her_ , and you know she’ll understand. 

In one swift motion, you are out the door, and in another, you are one with the morning shopping crowd.


End file.
